Honeymoon
by Deb3
Summary: 5th in the Fearful Symmetry series: Calleigh is kidnapped on her honeymoon!
1. Default Chapter

4th in the Fearful Symmetry series. Fearful Symmetry, Can't Fight This Feeling, and Gold Medals come first.  
  
Disclaimer: Not my characters, blah, blah, so forth.  
  
***  
  
"You and me - all that lights upon us, though, Brings us together like a fiddle-bow. Drawing one voice from two strings, it glides along. Across what instruments have we been spanned? And what violinist holds us in his hand? O sweetest song"  
  
Ranier Maria Rilke, "Possibility of Being"  
  
***  
  
Looking back on the ceremony through the years, all Calleigh could ever remember for long was Horatio. Standing at the front of the church, his handsome form straight and focused toward her, his incredible eyes directly meeting hers. They locked with her eyes the minute she entered and held them all the way down the aisle, and she honestly did not hear the music, no longer felt the touch of Speed's arm against hers as he walked her down the aisle. Minutes before, she had been half-teasing Speed, who was in a formal suit for the occasion and looked like he'd rather be in a lab coat instead. But now, there was only Horatio. Eric stood alongside him as best man, and his open look of admiration and pride at Calleigh went unnoticed. Reminded later, she could remember that everyone had been there, but then the memories retreated to the back seat of her mind again, and there was only Horatio. She never heard the words of the ceremony. She supposed she gave the right answers, but it was all a blur. The world condensed down to a pair of magnetic blue eyes. She did remember the kiss.  
  
The reception was hurried, because Calleigh and Horatio had a plane to catch. She was utterly touched, though, as was he, by the joint gift from the CSI team. It was a set of matching pistols, both with silver plates across the handholds, both engraved "Horatio and Calleigh, September 25, 2003."  
  
"I don't know what to say, guys. Thank you." Calleigh kissed them all in turn.  
  
"We thought about china and such," said Eric, "but we decided to give you something we knew you'd use."  
  
"They're wonderful," said Horatio. "The perfect gift." He smiled at Eric, and Eric, whose idea it had been in the first place, felt a warm glow of satisfaction. He had managed to give his friend something that meant as much as Horatio's gift to him a few months ago.  
  
"You'd better get going," urged Alexx. "You'll miss your plane."  
  
"No, we'll only miss security check," said Calleigh. "The plane doesn't leave for two hours. Still, you're right."  
  
"I don't think we'll take your gift along, though," said Horatio. "Much as we appreciate it, airport security won't." He passed the box back to them. "Hang onto it for us. Oh, and one more thing." He fished out his cell phone, ceremoniously turned it off, and handed it to Alexx. "A promise kept," he smiled at Calleigh. She pulled out her own phone and turned it over as well.  
  
"Have a wonderful time, you two," said Alexx.  
  
"And try not to get tied up in any crimes on your honeymoon," added Speed.  
  
"No worries," said Horatio. "We really have other things planned."  
  
***  
  
Calleigh Caine (boy, it felt good to think of herself that way!) leaned back in the plane, stretching her feet luxuriously. Of course, she could stretch her feet luxuriously in coach; she didn't need the leg room of first class. Still, the gesture was significant. Shaking off the world, leaving all her responsibilities behind her. There was only Horatio now.  
  
He smiled at her, squeezing her hand softly where he held it between their seats. "Now it begins."  
  
"I never actually thought that I'd be marrying the man of my dreams and heading for a honeymoon in Niagara Falls," she said. "Too much like a childhood dream."  
  
"What did you expect after a proposal in a thunderstorm? Rainbows follow storms. From here, Calleigh, we go straight over the rainbow." His eyes simultaneously charmed and dazzled her.  
  
"Do you think there is a pot of gold, Horatio?"  
  
"I'm absolutely sure of it," he said, lifting his free hand to run through her golden waves of hair. "I think we've found it already."  
  
"I think we have." It was really impossible to do much in the mostly full plane, far too public, but she squeezed his hand lightly, a promise of the future. The not-too-distant future.  
  
"Rosalind!" The tone was annoyed. His interest caught by the name, Horatio looked across the aisle to the middle-aged businessman in the next seat. He was addressing the girl, about 10 years old, who fidgeted next to the window. "Would you be still? I'm trying to work out these figures." He returned his attention to the portfolio spread across his knees.  
  
"But it doesn't work!" The tone held all the frustration a 10-year-old could muster. She flung down the wooden and metal brainteaser she had been fiddling with. "Can't you help me with it, Daddy?"  
  
"I'm busy," he said shortly. "You know how much this trip means to me. I bought you the puzzle you wanted in the airport, so work it out yourself. Or look out the window. I even gave you the window seat. But I have to finish this proposal."  
  
Rosalind stared out at the clouds for at least 30 seconds, then picked up the puzzle again, working over it with increasing frustration, trying to force it.  
  
"Must you clank with the thing? Keep it quiet, would you?" Her father's eyes never left the papers.  
  
"Swap seats, why don't you, and I'll help you with it." Horatio's voice was soft, but it reached all the way across the aisle, arresting her father in his paperwork on the way. He looked up at Horatio. Rosalind eyed him hopefully.  
  
"Well, alright," he said, standing up, "but you just tell her to shut up when you get tired of her." He and the girl changed places, and she leaned out across the aisle, offering the puzzle to Horatio. He studied it briefly, then shifted three pieces in sequence. The trapped ball fell out of the pieces like the prize in a box of Cracker Jacks.  
  
"How did you do that?" Rosalind couldn't believe it. "I've been fighting it for an hour."  
  
"Fighting it won't help," said Horatio gently. "You need to see how it works. Look here." He leaned out from his own seat, his long, sensitive fingers playing the puzzle pieces like piano keys. "The force from this piece blocks this one. You have to get around that. So you shift this piece here, then drop that one in sideways." He snapped the puzzle back together, then neatly took it apart again, this time more slowly. "Here, you try it." Rosalind picked up the puzzle and starting working with it, much more hesitantly than Horatio but working with it now, not fighting it. He corrected her gently once, and they both smiled at each other as the ball once again fell free.  
  
"Do it again!" She passed the pieces to him, and he snapped it together again, then apart, then back together and returned it. She worked it herself, more quickly this time.  
  
"And the wonderful thing is," said Horatio, "once you understand how it works, it never changes."  
  
"Never?"  
  
"Never. You can work it 100 times. It will always be the same."  
  
Rosalind settled back into her own seat, working the puzzle with increasing confidence. Apart. Together. Apart. Together. And it was always the same. Calleigh leaned over to Horatio.  
  
"I can't wait to see you with our kids."  
  
He transferred his smile from Rosalind to her. "And I can't wait to see you with them."  
  
"We could name a girl Rosalind, if you want."  
  
He liked the idea, she could tell, but being Horatio, he had to look at it from all angles. "What if it's a boy?"  
  
Calleigh raised his hand to her lips and kissed it. "It's not like we have to find all the answers tonight. We'll just think about that one some more."  
  
He kissed her hand in turn. "Let's not do too much thinking for tonight, though." Their eyes locked again as the plane continued its swift flight toward Niagara Falls.  
  
***  
  
The bell boy unlocked the door of the honeymoon suite and stepped back, and Calleigh started forward. She only got half a step, though, before warm arms captured her and swept her up with a strength that made her feel weightless. The hotel man smiled as Horatio carried her across the threshold. He didn't put her down on the other side, either. Standing in the middle of the huge room, he continued to hold her while directing the staff where to put the luggage. Calleigh thought briefly (very briefly) of protesting, but she knew it was pointless. Besides, she didn't really want to. After all, this was the honeymoon suite, and the staff had probably seen it all before. Horatio freed one arm, holding her securely with the other, and fished out his wallet. The staff pocketed the tip and vanished, well-trained.  
  
"Now," he said. He carried her toward the bed - the marvelous, large, heart-shaped bed - and deposited her on it gently. She started to sit up, to take off her shoes, and he stopped her with one look. "This time," he said, "I want to do it."  
  
"Just as long as my turn is coming." She lay back, unprotesting, as he started slowly removing her clothes.  
  
"Of course. Fair is fair." Calleigh was lost in him again, his eyes, his hands, his unhurried urgency. He was gentle but confident, as if claiming what he knew was rightfully his. She abandoned herself to discovering even more fully exactly what it was about this man that had excited her so much for the last two years. And he did not disappoint her.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh Caine (how she loved thinking of herself that way!) opened her eyes with a purr of contentment. Horatio was still asleep, his head near hers. She watched him with an overpowering love. My husband, she thought. Our first morning waking up next to each other.  
  
Actually, she realized suddenly, it was their second morning waking up next to each other. They had never left the honeymoon suite yesterday, spending the entire day in delicious exploration of each other. She memorized his features again. The flaming hair, the lean, classic lines. She reached out and lightly traced the scar down the right edge of his face. It was fading now, and it did nothing to mar his looks. But to her, even the scar was beautiful, a living reminder of his bravery and compassion.  
  
Horatio's eyes flickered open as she lightly stroked his face. "Good morning, wife."  
  
"Good morning, husband." They kissed each other warmly. "You know what happened yesterday, Horatio?"  
  
"I think I remember most of it," he smiled.  
  
"Or really, what didn't happen."  
  
He looked into her mind and finished the thought. "The phone never rang."  
  
"Marvelous, wasn't it?"  
  
"Marvelous." They kissed again.  
  
"Well, Horatio, this is the second day. Should we get out of bed today?"  
  
"We got out of bed yesterday," he said, looking fondly toward the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace.  
  
"Sorry, let me rephrase the question. Should we get out of the room today?"  
  
He hesitated. "Your call." She absolutely loved it when he surrendered control of something - anything - to her. From him, it was the ultimate statement of trust and respect.  
  
"It would be a shame to go to Niagara Falls and not see it."  
  
"That it would." He propped himself up on one elbow, then grinned at her suddenly. "Wait a minute. We don't have to make a choice. Maybe we could make love on the observation deck at the falls."  
  
"Horatio!" Calleigh sat up herself. "What would all the people say?"  
  
"They wouldn't notice. They'd be watching the waterfall."  
  
"They'd notice." Calleigh got out of bed and stretched luxuriously, committing herself to the day. "Let's get out for a bit today, though. It will make coming back that much better."  
  
"Deal." He got out of bed himself. "Do you want the shower first?"  
  
"Remember, Horatio, we don't have to make a choice." He smiled at her again and came around the bed to join her.  
  
***  
  
They were crossing the lobby, hand in hand, later that morning when Rosalind's voice stopped them. "Horatio!" She came bounding across the lobby, another kid in tow. "Horatio, where have you been? I've been looking all over for you."  
  
"I've been in the hotel," he said truthfully.  
  
She was too intent on her mission to notice the smile he exchanged with Calleigh. "Horatio, would you do me a favor?"  
  
"Sure, Rosalind." They had discovered a little more about the girl on the flight up. Her parents had recently divorced. Her mother was to have had her this week but went into the hospital for an appendectomy. At the last minute, Rosalind was forced to come along with her father on his business trip. Her father was less than thrilled. Horatio was always touched by anyone lonely, and he smiled down at her eager face now. Calleigh, watching him, again imagined him with their own children.  
  
She held out something to him. "Daddy bought this for me in the gift shop, to keep me busy. It's a Rubic's Cube. And I bet Matt here an ice cream cone that you could work it in three minutes." She smiled at her newfound friend, utterly confident.  
  
"Three minutes?" Calleigh eyed the multicolored cube dubiously.  
  
"Nobody can just pick one up and work it in three minutes," said Matt, with all the certainty of age 10. "I've had one for a year. Nobody gets that good without practice."  
  
"You can work it, can't you?" Rosalind's eyes had no doubt. Horatio picked up the cube and eyed it. He had heard of the things but had never worked one. He suddenly smiled at Calleigh.  
  
"Keep time, Cal, would you?"  
  
"Are you sure?" She would hate to see him fail in front of the girl and her new friend. He met her eyes. At times, Horatio's magnetism was so great that she would have believed him if he said he could fly. "Of course, yeah, I'll keep time." She eyed her watch, following the second hand around. "Ready? Go." Instantly, she looked back from the watch to him.  
  
Horatio did not start manipulating the cube right away. He took time to study it carefully, all six sides in turn, while Matt grinned at his seeming perplexity. Then, he started to shift the rows, and Matt's grin faded. Calmly, evenly, never faltering, with relaxed speed, he worked the colors around, finally snapping the last row into place. Calleigh looked at her watch again.  
  
"1 minute 55 seconds."  
  
"You owe me an ice cream cone," said Rosalind. "Thanks, Horatio." She seemed less impressed than Matt and Calleigh. She had never doubted in the first place.  
  
"Rosalind!" Horatio's voice stopped the kids as they scampered away. "Don't forget your cube." He tossed it lightly to her. She caught it neatly and gave him a final grin before heading for the ice cream stand with Matt.  
  
"Have you ever worked one of those before?" asked Calleigh.  
  
"Nope, first time." He caught her hand again. "Now, let's go see those falls." She had a private grin of her own as she followed him to the door. One of the sweetest things about Horatio, she thought, was that he honestly didn't realize just how special he was.  
  
***  
  
The Horseshoe Falls of Niagara thundered over the edge, the river dropping with incredible force. Calleigh and Horatio stood pressed against the safety rail, stunned like everyone else. What incredible power, Calleigh thought. Love is like that. Absolutely unstoppable. She looked at her husband fondly. He was rapt, watching the spectacle of nature. She wondered briefly how much he was seeing, what patterns there were that escaped her. She didn't ask, though. Horatio honestly had trouble explaining it. Watching him watch the falls was enough for her.  
  
Finally, they pried themselves away from the falls and started exploring some of the trails and walkways around the river. They wandered for two hours in companionable silence. "Beautiful, isn't it?" she said finally.  
  
"Incredible," he replied, his eyes moving from the river to Calleigh's face. Yes, love was like this. Deep water, rapids in places, infinite variety, but always the current, the driving force. She felt his eyes on her and smiled back at him. "Love is like this place," he said.  
  
"I was just thinking that." She gripped his hand more tightly. "If we'd seen this two years ago, we wouldn't have wasted time."  
  
"Can't fight the current," he agreed. "Let's head back to the hotel."  
  
"Let's." She hesitated, looking around. "Do we have to backtrack all the way? We'll have to cross the river somewhere. We're on the wrong side."  
  
"This trail to the left heads in the right direction. Let's keep exploring." He smiled at her. "Besides, I hate backtracking."  
  
"Me, too." They continued down the left hand trail together. Other hikers passed them occasionally, but they were too lost in each other to notice. Finally, the trail turned to cross the river again, and they started out onto the bridge. This one was deliberately built to look rustic, a slightly swaying wooden suspension bridge, and it rocked gently under their feet as they got further from shore. Horatio froze.  
  
"Horatio, what's . . ." Calleigh knew instantly what was the matter as she turned back to him. The bridge. His body remembered too well another bridge shifting beneath his feet, then falling out from under him, the world dropping away. "It's okay," she said, going to him quickly. "This one's stable. We aren't going to fall."  
  
"I know," he managed to say. "It's just . . ." His hands gripped the rope rail so hard that the knuckles turned white. He was actually sweating.  
  
"Let's go back," she urged. "We're not even a quarter across. There's got to be another way around. We'll backtrack if we have to."  
  
"No." The one word was sharp, almost annoyed. "This is ridiculous." A family with kids started across from the other side, and the kids bounded gleefully ahead, jumping up and down to increase the motion. Calleigh could have cheerfully shot them. Horatio went even paler. "This is ridiculous," he repeated, telling it to himself, not her.  
  
"Horatio, it doesn't matter. Anyone would be scared by that. Come on, let's go back." She tried to pull his hands off the rope but failed.  
  
"No, we're going across." He managed a few steps toward the center, still clinging to the rope. "It doesn't make sense. I know this bridge is strong."  
  
"Your mind knows that, but your body remembers," she said soothingly. "It's okay. Come on back."  
  
"No. We're going across." He started off again, step by slow step, still hanging onto the rope. Calleigh came up next to him and gripped his arm tightly, giving him something else to hold onto. Together, they made it across the bridge. She paused on the other side, giving him a chance to relax, still holding his arm. His breathing gradually returned to normal. "Now," he said, turning back, "we cross it again."  
  
"No." Calleigh dragged him to a halt. "Horatio, now you ARE being ridiculous. It doesn't matter."  
  
"I'm going to cross it until I convince myself." He had taken on his stubborn look.  
  
"Come on, Horatio," she pleaded. "Look, I'm getting tired, okay? We've been out here all afternoon. Let's head back. Come on, I'm hungry if you aren't." He hesitated. After a minute, he turned around, consideration for her winning, as she had hoped it would.  
  
"It will still be there tomorrow, though," he muttered to himself.  
  
"Oh, for Pete's sake, Horatio. It doesn't matter. You are NOT going to spend our honeymoon walking back and forth across a bridge. There are better ways to use the time." She slipped an arm around him as they walked, hoping that the contact would heat up some response in him. Gradually, it did. She could feel him relax, feel his growing awareness of her, and he slipped his own arm around her. Still, this would be a challenge. He was serious. Yielding to anything that didn't make sense wasn't in his character, whether it was something that mattered or not. She would have to fight him to keep him away from that bridge for the rest of their stay.  
  
The sidewalks and walkways gradually led back into the hotel district, and Calleigh finally saw their hotel up ahead. "Enough of the world for today," said Horatio, and she smiled at him, partly in relief. But even as his smile answered hers, he stopped again.  
  
"What is it?" His eyes were on their hotel, focused, intent.  
  
"Why are there two regular police cars and three undercover cars in the circle drive?"  
  
Calleigh sorted out the cars herself, although it took a minute to spot the undercover ones. She frowned. "That is odd."  
  
"Something's happened."  
  
"But not something that concerns us," she insisted. "We're on vacation, remember?" She pulled his head over so she could kiss him, public walk or not, and he answered the pressure of her lips on his own.  
  
"Right," he said when they parted. "It's none of our business."  
  
"None," she agreed. They headed for the hotel together.  
  
They were both wrong. 


	2. Honeymoon 2

"Sometimes in the evening, when you do not see, I study the small things you do constantly. I memorize moments that I'm fondest of. My cup runneth over with love."  
  
***  
  
The hotel room door closed, sealing off the world. Calleigh and Horatio simultaneously let out a sigh of contentment and anticipation. "Now," she said, pulling the room service cart toward her, "we need some energy for tonight." She spread out the dishes on the small table in the room. "I've been absolutely starving since I got here. Don't know why."  
  
"All the exercise." Horatio had a playful glint in his eye. She shuddered again at his voice, and everything it promised.  
  
"Exercise is good for us." She sat down. "Come here, husband. I don't want you running out of energy, either."  
  
"No chance." He settled across from her, though, and they ate together, resting their eyes on each other. Food for the soul, as well as the body. When they were done, she started to stack the plates together, and he stood up and came around behind her, capturing her with his arms. "Leave it. We've got to let the hotel staff earn their salaries." She turned to him willingly, and they kissed with growing passion.  
  
The knock on the door startled both of them. "Are we back in Miami already?" asked Calleigh, breaking away reluctantly.  
  
"Not last time I checked." Horatio eyed the door. "Maybe they'll go away." The second knock was louder, more determined. Resigned, he crossed the room and opened the door.  
  
The police detective flashed his badge. "Horatio Caine?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"We'd like to talk to you for a minute." Horatio swung the door wider in invitation, and the detective entered, followed by the uniformed officer with him. The detective studied Horatio curiously as they crossed to the chairs. This man was absolutely unruffled at finding police at the door. Criminals usually had an arrogance, a pride, a sense of rising to the challenge of the police. The innocent public, on the other hand, could not be confronted with a policeman unexpectedly without doing a half-guilty mental canter around all activities of the last few days, looking for an unintentional infraction. This Horatio Caine, however, did not react either way. There was mild curiosity in him but no sense of being rocked at all. And that set him apart from 99% of the people the detective had met on the job.  
  
"Detective Sanders. This is Officer Wilson."  
  
"My wife, Calleigh Caine." (How he loved thinking of her that way!) The two officers took the armchairs, and Calleigh and Horatio sat on the couch.  
  
Horatio made no move to start the proceedings, just waiting calmly, and Sanders threw out the preliminaries and decided to jump straight to the core. "We understand that you spoke to Rosalind Stevens in the hotel lobby this morning."  
  
"Yes, I did." The curiosity was sharper, but no wariness. Sanders and Wilson would both swear on their careers that he did not know what was coming.  
  
"Ms. Stevens was kidnapped this afternoon."  
  
That brought a reaction. Calleigh let out a gasp and gripped Horatio's hand more tightly. Horatio stiffened up, and the instant concern in his eyes surprised the detective. Much more than the automatic response of any honest adult to a child in danger. "Has there been a ransom demand?"  
  
"Yes," Sanders started automatically, then caught himself. The question had been put with such authority that he had instantly begun to answer. Horatio caught his reaction and gave him an understanding smile.  
  
"We're both with the Miami-Dade PD. We work in the crime lab."  
  
"Horatio's the head of the crime lab," Calleigh said proudly. If he wouldn't finish his resume, she would.  
  
The two officers both instantly relaxed into the unspoken brotherhood of police. Besides, Sanders reassured himself, this man was absolutely not involved in any way. Either that, or he deserved an Oscar for his acting ability. "I see. Yes, there has been a ransom demand. Her father is a businessman of considerable means. What we wanted to ask you, did you notice anyone this morning watching the girl, staying near her?"  
  
Horatio took a second to reconstruct the scene. "No. People were coming and going, but no one was doing one thing as long as we were. She did have another child with her, I assume a new friend from the hotel. Matt, she called him."  
  
"We've spoken to Matt. He's the one who mentioned you. But he didn't notice anything at all. He was with Ms. Stevens until about 1:00, at which point he went with his parents. She was going out to look at the falls, he said. He couldn't give us many details, though. It was his parents who provided the time he left her. He couldn't even tell us what she was wearing."  
  
"Blue jeans, plain red T-shirt, and blue and white Nike tennis shoes," said Horatio instantly. Wilson immediately wrote it down in his notebook. Sanders looked impressed.  
  
"Thank you. Her father couldn't give us that." Calleigh couldn't help a moment's anger at the unnoticing businessman on the plane, mixed with sympathy, because she knew that he was probably kicking himself for being unnoticing right now.  
  
"Did anyone see her after Matt left her?" Horatio leaned forward slightly, his head tilted a bit.  
  
"No one we've found. You didn't see her later yourself?"  
  
"No, but there are a lot of paths and trails out there, lonely spots, as well as the main observation decks. And it could have been the main deck. You know, it isn't impossible to take a child out of a crowd." All four of them nodded in reluctant acknowledgement. "The odd thing is," Horatio continued, "that Rosalind wasn't supposed to come on this trip until 3 days ago."  
  
"Really?" Sanders sat up straighter. "Her father didn't mention that. He's absolutely beside himself, though, poor guy."  
  
"Her mother is in the hospital with a ruptured appendix. Her coming with her father was a last minute thing, definitely. That means the crime is planned over 2 days, no more. They can't have it perfect. They'll leave clues." His eyes met Sanders' directly. "What is the ransom demand?"  
  
Wilson eyed his superior curiously. This certainly was one of the strangest witness questionings he had ever sat in on. Horatio had the lead. Sanders, after a moment's pause, answered. "$50,000. In unmarked bills, of course. He's supposed to get it and wait for further instructions. Also not contact the police, so we're trying to keep a low profile."  
  
Horatio frowned. "50,000? That's low." Calleigh nodded her agreement.  
  
"Sounded low to me. We really don't have kidnapping cases come up, though. This isn't a big city like Miami. Niagara lives on the tourist business, and we're almost at the end of the busy season. The only detective on our force with kidnapping experience is on vacation for two weeks, rafting through the Grand Canyon."  
  
"This has an amateur feel to it," said Horatio. "The ransom's too low, the planning time is too short. There have to be clues somewhere. Could I see the ransom note, please?"  
  
Wilson dropped his pen and picked it up quickly. Sanders studied Horatio again. A good man to have in his corner, he decided. Like most cops, he had to just trust his instincts at times. And he did feel totally out of his depth here. "It's a tape, actually. A cassette tape. It was left in an envelope in Mr. Stevens' message slot at the front desk." Sanders stood up. "Come on, I'll let you hear it." Horatio shot one quick look of apology at Calleigh as they stood, and she squeezed his arm encouragingly. The thought of that beautiful child in the hands of kidnappers tore her apart, too. She wanted him to help. His answering smile of gratitude dazzled her. Then, they followed the officers together out of the room.  
  
***  
  
"We have your girl." The voice was gravelly, purposefully disguised probably. "If you ever want to see her again, get $50,000 in unmarked bills ready. Do not contact the police. We will be in touch in a few days." Sanders snapped the small tape player off.  
  
"Play it again." Horatio had his eyes shut, closing off visual distractions. Sanders rewound it and played it again. Horatio opened his eyes.  
  
"The voice is disguised. Not only that, it's disguised to match someone's memory of a movie gangster. This definitely isn't a professional. Probably someone who's spent a lot of time watching movies. No professional would say "in a few days" either. The most interesting thing, though, is that it was taped outside."  
  
"Really?" Sanders was skeptical. "Wouldn't inside be more secure?"  
  
"Absolutely. That's why it's interesting. Listen to it again, though, and there's a faint noise in the background, a rumble, like driving in a car with the windows down but much less." Sanders rewound it again and played it. Listening for it, they all heard it this time. Faint, but there.  
  
"So it was taped in a running car with the windows down?"  
  
"No," said Horatio. "That isn't the wind. Too constant, too distant, no variation at all. It's the falls." Wilson and Sanders simultaneously sat up straight, the light bulbs almost visible. They lived and worked around the roar of the falls so much that it became part of the normal background for them. They hadn't noticed it. "The hotel rooms are soundproofed around here. These are top class, top dollar hotels. And I think the criminals are staying in a hotel. The timing is too tight. No one knew she would be here until 2 days ago."  
  
"Inside in a chintzy hotel, then? You can get low dollar."  
  
"Not close to the falls. Besides, there's a bird call at one point, too. Right between $50,000 and in unmarked bills. Much closer bird call than you'd get inside. Undistorted." They played the tape again. There it was. "This was taped outside, in a fairly private spot, within distant earshot of the falls. My guess, on a trail. Now, we need to find the spot. If that's where they took her, that's where they left some clues."  
  
"How would we do that?" It was just a question, not disbelief. Sanders was actually starting to believe that this man had worked a Rubic's Cube in 3 minutes, like Matt had told him.  
  
"Do you happen to have any laser binoculars?"  
  
"Any what?"  
  
"Laser binoculars. They measure the distance to what you're looking at by bouncing laser beams off, then display the precise distance digitally in the vision field."  
  
"No. I'm afraid we don't have all the high dollar gadgets you get in Miami."  
  
"Doesn't matter. I'll have mine sent up overnight. With those, we can go around the trails and record at different points, measuring the distance from the falls by using different landmarks when we can't get a straight shot. If we have a sample of, say, 20 different even distances from the falls and compare what a recording there sounds like to the ransom tape, we can get a good idea of how far from the falls it was taped. Then plug that figure into a map of the trails, and we'll find our crime scene." Horatio sat up straighter. "Do you have the envelope the tape came in?"  
  
"Here it is, but no fingerprints. We did get a few fingerprints from the tape itself. Hard to remove a tape wearing gloves. We've sent them off to the city to be run." Calleigh longed for AFIS, the ability to process this stuff immediately. Horatio studied the envelope, a plain one with no return address, just Stevens' name written across the front. He sniffed it, then passed it to Calleigh.  
  
"What do you get from that?"  
  
She sniffed herself. Faint but unmistakable. "Chloroform. That's how they got Rosalind."  
  
"Right, and there was some left on the gloves when he handled the envelope."  
  
"Do you think it would do any good to have a hotel room search?" Sanders asked.  
  
"No, it would just get the word out better than the evening news. You'd never get all the way through it without broadcasting to the criminals that they need to move her. Unless you hit in the first few rooms you tried, it would be useless. Do you think there's any point in talking to Stevens?"  
  
"No. He's too upset. And I really don't think he noticed anything that would help."  
  
"Probably not," agreed Calleigh, remembering the plane.  
  
"One good thing, at least at the moment," said Horatio. "If these guys are amateurs, they'll be much less likely to have killed the girl already." His mind cringed from the words, but he had to express the possibility. They had all thought it. "They probably do intend for a simple money for kid exchange."  
  
"Why is that only good at the moment?" asked Sanders.  
  
"They won't be as cool as professionals, either. When something goes wrong, when we get close, they'll be more likely to act wildly, on impulse."  
  
"Nothing we can really do until we find the crime scene and get the fingerprints, then," said Sanders reluctantly.  
  
"No. We'll keep talking to people discretely, though." Horatio reluctantly stood up. "I guess we'd better get back to the hotel." Calleigh grinned privately at the reluctance in his voice, but she totally understood. How she adored this man, who wanted to protect all the innocents of the world!  
  
"It is getting too late to ask questions without raising our profile." It was 11:30 by the police station clock. "I'll have Wilson run you back to the hotel. I'll call the fingerprints lab and try to convince them to get a rush on this set when they get them tomorrow."  
  
Leaving the police station, they passed Sanders' undercover car and approached the marked police cruiser. "Do you get a car along with your job in Miami?" asked Wilson, eyeing his superior's car with envy.  
  
"I get a Hummer," said Horatio, and Wilson dropped his car keys, then swore while he knelt in the dark, feeling along the ground for them. Calleigh and Horatio took the opportunity for a warm, reassuring kiss.  
  
***  
  
Delko, Laura, Speed, and Pam sprawled in two comfortable tangles in Eric's cluttered apartment, watching a movie. When the phone rang, Speed glanced at his watch, glowing in the dark. "Midnight? Who would call at midnight?"  
  
"Just hope it's not a new case," groaned Eric, scrambling up to answer it. "Hello."  
  
"Eric, it's Horatio."  
  
"Hey, H, how's the honeymoon going?" What Eric really wondered was why his boss, on his honeymoon, was calling his coworkers at midnight.  
  
"Wonderful, but there's one thing I need that I can't get quickly up here. Could you ship it up to me?"  
  
"Sure, what do you need?"  
  
"The laser binoculars."  
  
Eric dropped the phone, caught it by the cord, and pulled it back up to his ear. "Sorry, H. You still there? You need your laser binoculars?"  
  
"Right. And as soon as possible. Ship them off first thing in the morning, fastest courier you can find. Cost isn't an object."  
  
"You want your laser binoculars as quickly as possible," said Eric dubiously.  
  
"Exactly. Thanks a million, Eric."  
  
"Um, no problem, H." They hung up, and Eric turned back to his friends. They had stopped the movie and switched on the light. "That was Horatio."  
  
"He wants his laser binoculars?" asked Speed.  
  
"On his honeymoon?" asked Laura.  
  
"Yeah," said Eric. "As quickly as possible. Cost doesn't matter." They all looked at each other for a minute.  
  
"I will never totally understand that guy," said Speed.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh woke up around 4:00 AM. The moon was almost full, and moonlight flooded the room. She studied Horatio, so close to her. Part of her was consumed with worry for Rosalind, but part of her was lost hopelessly in absolute love for this man. Every part of him. His sense of protection toward others, his compassion for the helpless, his razor-sharp mind, and the apology he had given her when they had returned to their room, as if he needed to apologize for caring. Their love tonight had been less wild, less urgent than yesterday, yet somehow deliciously deeper. Horatio, she thought, how did I ever live without you? She still found herself feeling like Cinderella, waiting for the spell to end and her shining coach to become a pumpkin. Even in the fairy tale, she remembered, the prince had never changed. Horatio was absolutely what he appeared to be. She just had trouble convincing herself that it was all hers. And unbelievably, he loved her back with as much abandon as she loved him. Incredible. I never lived before this, she thought. All my life has just been waiting. Waiting for him.  
  
***  
  
The bridge shifted beneath his feet, swaying with growing motion. He tried to ignore the fear that gripped him, tried to propel himself forward faster. Rosalind stood in the middle of the bridge, reaching out both hands toward him, calling to him, oblivious to the dark shadow behind her that stretched its own arms out. He tried to warn her, but she didn't seem to hear, still laughing, calling to him. He ran toward her, but the shadow approached even faster from the other side. Seconds before he reached her, it did, enveloping her into itself. Rosalind disappeared as the trembling bridge finally gave way, collapsing out from under him, and the entire world dissolved into free fall until a blinding blow along his head shattered everything into darkness.  
  
"Horatio!" Hands, warm and comfortingly real, gripped his arms tightly. He opened his eyes, reassured by the return of vision. Moonlight lit the room almost as bright as day. Calleigh's eyes, full of concern, met his. "Are you okay?"  
  
"I think so." He pushed himself up a bit on the pillows, feeling his heart slowly return to normal. "Sorry. Did I wake you up?"  
  
She shook him gently. "Horatio Caine, if you don't stop apologizing to me for things that don't need it, I -am- going to get mad at you. Were you dreaming about the bridge?"  
  
He nodded. "And Rosalind."  
  
"Tell me about it." He hesitated, but it was a command, not a request. He told her the dream, and she shuddered herself. He gripped her reassuringly in turn.  
  
"She can't have just disappeared. Not like that. We'll find her." The intensity of the promise filled the room. "Nobody just falls into a shadow without a trace."  
  
He had automatically focused on Rosalind, her problem, not the bridge, his own. Calleigh loved him all over again. "I know you'll find her. She'll be fine." She kissed his forehead. "After all, they're amateurs. And we're professionals. They don't stand a chance." He relaxed slightly, answering her smile. "Have you dreamed about the bridge collapse before?" She had never been aware of it, and now she wondered guiltily how she could have ignored the possibility.  
  
He hesitated too long. Caught, he confessed. "Sometimes. Not often, though. And it never bothered me to cross one until that moving one yesterday."  
  
"Horatio, anyone would be reminded by that. I'm just sorry I didn't think of it before we started across. In fact, most people would be bothered by bridges in general."  
  
"It doesn't make sense, though." He was getting his stubborn look again.  
  
"It makes all the sense in the world. Your body doesn't want that to happen again. And you should listen to it. You stay away from collapsing bridges in the future, you hear me?" Her mock sternness touched him, because he saw the seriousness behind it. "I am not going to lose you, now that I've found you," she told him fiercely. She realized again how close she had come to it. Suddenly, the heat exploded between them, and they came together again, becoming one with each other, trying to express the inexpressible. Afterwards, he drifted off to sleep again, this time soundly, and she lay there awake but feeling absolutely rested and loved. Horatio, she thought, watching him breathe, don't ever change.  
  
***  
  
The next day was spent in questioning people, trying to trace Rosalind's movements, without being obvious about it. No uniformed officers around this time. Sanders, Horatio, and Calleigh wandered through the crowds, trying to be casual. The wait grated on Horatio's nerves, though. Nothing solid, no evidence to work with until the binoculars arrived from Miami or the fingerprints came back from the lab. He hated working at a distance from the lab. He wanted to see the evidence, to get his hands on it, to make it give up its secrets.  
  
They also talked with Mr. Stevens, Rosalind's father, that afternoon. He looked shriveled inside his business suit, as if someone had stuck a pin in him, letting the air out. "I can't believe it," he said for the twentieth time. "I didn't keep an eye on her. I thought she would always be there."  
  
No, thought Calleigh, she would have grown up some day. She didn't say it, though. This man was already mired in guilt. He didn't need more.  
  
"We'll find her," said Sanders. "We have everything set up in case they call." A wire tap was on the hotel room phone.  
  
"Probably, it'll be another tape," said Horatio. "Did you alert the front desk?"  
  
"Absolutely. We have a plainclothesman down there helping on the desk, too. No one is just going to walk in and leave a message for him again."  
  
"I just can't believe it," said Stevens again. "This isn't real. It can't be." He looked at them hopefully, but it was all too real. And they all knew it.  
  
***  
  
Horatio and Calleigh ate downstairs in the hotel restaurant that night. Horatio wanted to watch the people, unobtrusively, of course. He studied faces, trying to plug any of them into his mental picture of the lobby the day before, the scene with Rosalind. Nothing. The perp must have latched onto the girl later. He would swear that no one had been watching her while she was with him. And they had stood there for several minutes, long enough for a watcher to become obvious.  
  
"Let's walk out to the falls," he said, as they finished. "We haven't seen them in the dark." And there would be more people out there to study. "I want to talk to the man at the desk again, too."  
  
"Fine. I'll just use the facilities. Meet you outside." She headed on toward the restrooms near the doors while he went back across the lobby to the reception desk. No one had left a message for Stevens. No one suspicious had come through. While he was standing there, the next detective arrived to replace the previous one, changing at the same time the desk clerk shift changed to avoid suspicion. Horatio took a minute to talk to the new clerk and the new detective. Finally, he walked outside.  
  
She wasn't there. An icicle of worry stabbed him in the chest. The area wasn't as crowded as during the day, but there were plenty of people there. Just not Calleigh. He combed the crowd again, then went back into the lobby. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He sent a grandmotherly-looking woman into the women's restroom to check. She wasn't there. Back outside, then. No one could have snatched her in the hotel lobby. Outside, the crowd provided some cover. He covered the area thoroughly, in expanding circles from the door. There was a closed drink stand between their hotel and the next one. Behind it, shielded from the crowd, Horatio found what he was looking for. A handkerchief lay on the ground. He used his sleeve to pick it up, not disturbing fingerprints, and smelled it. Chloroform. Much stronger than the traces on the envelope sent by the kidnappers to Stevens.  
  
They had Calleigh. 


	3. Honeymoon 3

"But hark! My pulse, like a soft drum, Beats my approach, tells thee I come."  
  
Henry King, "The Exequy"  
  
***  
  
Horatio would always remember that night as one of the longest of his life. After he found the handkerchief, he stood there for a minute, surveying the scene. His soul cringed from the reality, like Mr. Stevens had earlier that day, but his mind automatically clicked into action, like a train running on its established rails. After his initial survey, he borrowed a flashlight from the policeman at the desk. He called Sanders, then went back out to the scene, processing it slowly, carefully, like any day on the job at CSI. There were no signs of a scuffle, no drag marks. She had been lured there somehow, away from the main crowd, and knowing Calleigh, the bait must have been very good. She wouldn't have been fooled easily. His assessment of these people rose a fraction. People, plural. This crime confirmed his feeling all along that more than one person was involved. One alone could have snatched Rosalind, but someone had lured Calleigh in, and someone else had been pressed against the back of the stand, waiting with the chloroform, to seize her from behind. The drug had quickly overcome any resistance. But it had to be a second person who drugged her. Calleigh would never turn her back on the first one, and face-to-face, she would have seen it coming. There would have at least been a struggle.  
  
He ran the flashlight over the entire area, then paused alertly and stooped beside the wall. There was a cigarette, half-smoked, tossed away in a hurry. Dropped by the criminal? Horatio carefully put it in one of the envelopes he had picked up at the reception desk. If this was from one of the criminals, he now had a DNA sample. He also had a little better idea of the perps. At least one of them was cool, capable of coming up with a plan to lure Calleigh, formidable even if not professional. But at least one of the others was nervous enough that he had smoked a cigarette almost up to the moment of kidnapping. It would take a serious addiction, or a serious case of nerves, to pull out a cigarette then.  
  
Footsteps echoed on the pavement behind him, and he stood up as Sanders came around the corner. "Horatio, I'm so sorry. . . " he started, then stopped, eying his companion.  
  
"She was taken from here," said Horatio, in a tight voice that gave the impression he was about two seconds away from losing it. His movements were perfectly graceful, though, his expressive hands smoothly outlining the scene as he described it. "They lured her back here somehow, and it had to be pretty good bait. At least two people involved. The first one was the leader. The second one waited right here and grabbed her from behind. He had chloroform on this handkerchief, and she was overcome before she could fight. Same as Rosalind. He was much more nervous, and he smoked a cigarette while he was waiting - smoked it while holding a handkerchief full of chloroform! - and tossed it aside when he heard them coming. The cigarette butt is here. When we get a suspect in custody, we have a DNA link."  
  
"I've alerted the desk to watch out for messages for you, too," Sanders offered tentatively.  
  
"No need," said Horatio. "The message to me doesn't need taping. It's already been received."  
  
"Back off, you mean?"  
  
"Exactly." He might have been discussing any case on the job, but that note of strain was still behind his voice. "The interesting thing is, how did they know I was on the case? We've done our best to keep a low profile today. We haven't talked to that many people, and we used a cover story to the ones we did. Somewhere, in that group of people we did talk to, is a link to the criminals."  
  
"If not one of the criminals themselves," said Sanders.  
  
"I doubt it. I don't think I talked to one of them directly. But I want a list of everyone you talked to today. Also, could you let me have a gun?"  
  
Sanders shook his head. "Sorry, department rules would never bend that far." It was the truth, and Horatio accepted it, but Sanders was glad of the excuse. Somehow, he would not feel at all comfortable giving this man a gun right now. "One thing," he offered tentatively. "Stevens might have mentioned it to someone. He wouldn't be thinking straight right now. It could have slipped out."  
  
Horatio tilted his head slightly. "Nice work. There's an idea we'll have to follow up on." Sanders felt himself expand a bit under the genuine praise. It suddenly occurred to him that Horatio's subordinates probably loved him. He would make a difficult boss, but the rewards would be there. "I can see Stevens slipping up more than I can see either of us talking to the kidnappers and missing it," Horatio continued. "Let's go see him again." He handed Sanders the two envelopes holding the cigarette butt and the handkerchief, then started off with such smooth speed that Sanders had to half-run to catch up to him.  
  
***  
  
Horatio honestly felt like committing murder. Inefficiency and confusion always drove him crazy, and Stevens as a witness was getting perilously close to Horatio's last nerve. Only the unwilling sympathy for this man and what he was going through held him in check. None of this showed in his voice, but it did in his eyes, and Sanders saw it.  
  
"Once again," Horatio said with forced gentleness. "Start at the beginning of the day and try to remember it. Did you talk to anyone about me helping look for Rosalind?"  
  
"I don't know." Stevens had no fingernails left to chew after the last few days. He knotted his fingers nervously instead and stared at them. "I'm sorry, I just don't remember."  
  
Horatio broke it down a step further. "Okay, Sanders told you this morning that I would help. What time was that?" He faced Sanders with relief, looking for a straight answer to at least one question.  
  
"8:30," said Sanders promptly.  
  
"Thank you. Did you eat breakfast this morning, Mr. Stevens? If so, was that before or after Sanders talked to you?"  
  
"Um, yes, I did. It was after. He told me I needed to eat, keep up my strength." Sanders nodded in confirmation.  
  
"Did you go down to the restaurant?"  
  
"No, I ordered room service."  
  
"The waiter who brought the cart, did you mention it to him?"  
  
Stevens' mind suddenly started functioning. "Yes, actually. I did. He asked me how things were going, if there was any word from the kidnappers."  
  
Horatio and Sanders both snapped to attention. "He asked you? He brought it up? And mentioned kidnappers?"  
  
"Yes." The two officers locked eyes. How did a room service worker in a hotel know about a kidnapping that hadn't been publicized? Everyone the two of them had questioned had just been told the child was lost.  
  
"Describe him." The tone was too sharp, the eyes too urgent, and Stevens went into frightened mental retreat again. Horatio wrenched himself away, nodded to Sanders, and walked across the room to the window. Behind him, Sanders in low, gentle tones started coaxing a description out of Stevens. In front of him, the scene was black, late night now, still some artificial lights, a few people heading for the falls, but mostly a world of shadows. Somewhere out there in it was Calleigh.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh Caine (how she loved thinking of herself that way, even when her head was splitting and her mouth felt full of cotton!) rolled over and sat up. She was in the floor of a small room, where she had been dumped in the corner like a sack of potatoes. There were no windows. The place really didn't look like a dungeon, though. There was furniture, and a rug was in the middle of the wooden floor. There was also a small iron frame bed, and a small figure lay under the blanket. Calleigh rocketed to her feet, ignoring her headache now. "Rosalind!" She gripped the girl's shoulder, shaking her gently. "Rosalind!"  
  
Two sleepy eyes opened and slowly focused. "Calleigh!" The girl sat up and wrapped both arms around Calleigh's neck, hugging her. Calleigh sat down on the bed and hugged her back. "You found me," Rosalind mumbled into her chest.  
  
"Not exactly." Calleigh was thoroughly disgusted with herself, now that she thought about it. She had been standing near the hotel entrance, waiting for Horatio, when a couple came up to her and had asked her if she knew the way to a certain street nearby. She walked along after them to point out the first turn, which was a tricky one that they couldn't quite seem to get a picture of, and right after they had passed the corner of a closed drink stand, arms of steel had grabbed her and a handkerchief had been forced under her nose. She was still trying to command her muscles to resist when she collapsed. You idiot, she thought. Just because it was a couple doesn't make them honest. Horatio -said- there was more than one person involved.  
  
"You mean they got you, too?" Rosalind unwound herself from around Calleigh's shoulders.  
  
"Yep, me too." They both settled back, sitting side by side on the bed, leaning against the wall. "I assume that door is locked?"  
  
"Yes." Rosalind eyed her. "Horatio will find us, won't he?"  
  
"Yes, he will." Her absolute conviction reassured the girl. "Rosalind, how many people have you seen? There have to be at least three of them."  
  
"I've seen three. One of them is a woman. I don't like her much. She's always talking about money, and she and one of the men argue about how to spend it. He even hit her once." She shivered.  
  
"Did any of them hurt you?"  
  
"No. The angry man doesn't want me hurt. He says I'm worth too much."  
  
"What about the third man?"  
  
"He's nervous. Always smoking cigarettes and talking about what if they get caught." Rosalind considered with all the wisdom of 10. "I don't like any of them, but the angry man scares me." Calleigh put an arm around her and pulled her over against her. "They haven't treated me badly, though. And they let me keep my cube, even." She pulled the Rubic's Cube out of her pocket. The sides were all scrambled again. Rosalind shifted a few rows absentmindedly, then looked up at Calleigh. "Horatio couldn't explain how he worked this puzzle, could he? Not like the one in the plane."  
  
Calleigh smiled, thinking of him. "No, Rosalind, he couldn't. He sees how things fit together just by looking at them. He really has trouble explaining it. It's just how he is." She tightened her grip on Rosalind's shoulder. "But I promise, Rosalind, he's just as good with puzzles that matter. He will solve this case, and he will find us."  
  
Rosalind smiled. "I know. I've been telling myself, sitting here, when I wondered if Daddy would really be able to get me back. I said if he doesn't, Horatio will." She hugged Calleigh again. "Horatio's really nice, isn't he?"  
  
Nice. Of all the words Calleigh had thought of to describe Horatio, nice had never been one of them. Compassionate, brilliant, dazzling, dedicated, fierce, loving, honest, protective, sensitive. But yes, in addition to all that, in addition to the electricity that ran out from him to light her soul, illuminating her inwardly and yet slightly frightening her with its intensity, on top of all else, he was nice. "Yes," she said. "He is nice."  
  
"I hope I meet somebody nice some day," said Rosalind wistfully.  
  
"I do, too," said Calleigh sincerely. "But I'm afraid Horatio is one of a kind." She was suddenly consumed with anxiety for him. 5:00 AM, she thought, looking at her watch. I wonder if he ever got any sleep tonight. And if he did, no one will be there to hold him through the dreams.  
  
***  
  
Horatio was not asleep. He sat in the armchair in the honeymoon suite. Sanders had finally convinced him to go get a few hours rest, but lying down in that bed alone was unthinkable. They really could do nothing until the hotel manager arrived at 7:00. Then, with the description they had, they could attach a name to the waiter and catch him unexpectedly, as he arrived at work. This worker was the link to the kidnappers, the information source probably for both Rosalind's capture as well as Calleigh's. And Horatio would drag it out of him physically if he had to.  
  
Now, though, he wasn't thinking of the crime as much as he was just thinking of her. He remembered the first time he had ever seen her in Louisiana, where he had gone to try to talk her into coming to Miami. He remembered the way she had dropped everything on her plate to do him a favor on the Sandoval case. The way she had marched toward him after the sniper had been captured, absolutely stunning in black, her eyes meeting his directly, warming in his praise. The way she had of tossing her hair back unconsciously. The way she stood on the firing range, all smooth competence, safety gear in place, utterly precise and deadly, gunning down the criminals with their own weapons. Most of all, the way that she had been there for him the last several months, his delicious discovery that he could lean on her, that her slight frame could support both of them. The utter release of not having to be in charge, of being together, equal partners. Loneliness had been the theme of his life until she came in, such loneliness that, looking back, it appalled him. Calleigh, he thought, how did I ever live without you? Moonlight flooded the room and illuminated the far wall, and he sat there in the armchair, watching mental pictures of her projected against it. When he finally did drop off to sleep, it was her face in the moonlight he dreamed of, her voice last night, calling him back from the edge of the abyss. Even without her presence, her voice held the nightmares away.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh and Rosalind scrambled off the bed and pressed up against the locked door listening as voices rose in the house.  
  
"I'm telling you, they don't suspect a thing." This voice was cocky, one she hadn't heard before.  
  
"And I'm telling you, you're pushing it on this job. Volunteering to take room service up to his room every time. Someone's going to notice." That was the one Rosalind had called the angry man, the one Calleigh recognized as one of the couple who had lured her.  
  
"I did bring you the goods yesterday. About that cop from Miami." The cocky one was the hotel link, she realized. Horatio had thought there was a connection to the hotel, possibly with the criminals staying there, but at least some channel of communication.  
  
"Two people now! $50,000 isn't enough, I tell you. And I still don't think it should be split four ways. Pete doesn't deserve a fourth." That was the woman, with such spite in her tone that Calleigh hardly recognized her voice from the night before.  
  
"I grabbed the woman last night," Pete protested.  
  
"Shut up!" That was the angry man, and silence fell for at least a few seconds. He was definitely the leader. "Bob, I'll go down to the hotel myself this morning when you go in, see how things look."  
  
The voices died away to a low, discontented grumble. Calleigh straightened up and looked around her prison again. A nice but small room, with a small bathroom off it. Where was this house? The door rattled suddenly, the lock turning, and she steeled her muscles in case opportunity came. The first thing to come through the door, though, was the point of a gun. It was an ugly looking shotgun, a 20 gauge. "Back off, now." The angry man came in as she backed away. Rosalind had already jumped off the bed and pressed herself flat against the wall. Behind him came the woman, carrying a tray which she set on the floor next to the bed. "Feeding time at the zoo," he sneered. "Have a nice nap?"  
  
"You're going to regret this," Calleigh insisted.  
  
"I doubt it. Money buys a lot of comfort."  
  
"But we should each get a third, Steve," said the woman.  
  
"Shut up!" Calleigh tensed up, but his eyes never left her for the other woman. There was no opportunity to jump him. "Well, now, maybe your husband will keep out of other people's business. He's got a few things of his own to think about. And we'll make him wait a while for the ransom on you, too. Let him sweat."  
  
Calleigh stared at him. "You think that you taking me will make Horatio back off?" Horatio, who would go on crusades daily for people he had never met before. Steve thought making it personal would back him off. She almost laughed out loud. "You have no idea what you've unleashed. He'll track you clear to hell if he has to." Steve studied her, weighing her sincerity against his own arrogance. This man is dangerous, she realized. He can think. Of the four of them, he was the real threat.  
  
"I'll check up on him at the hotel, see how he's taking it. We'll see." The woman exited behind him, and he backed away himself, not turning around. The gun was the last thing out the door, and the locks turned again.  
  
***  
  
Horatio stood on the balcony overlooking the lobby, several doors down the hall from the door labeled Manager's Office, half-hidden by a large potted plant so that he could not be seen by anyone approaching along the hall. Sanders was next to him. The minute the waiter arrived at work, he would be escorted to the manager's office by security and a plainclothesman. They were just waiting. Horatio toyed with the package in his hands, newly arrived that morning, the laser binoculars from Miami. He probably wouldn't need them now. This lead was much hotter. The waiter was known to have a sister who lived in Niagara Falls, although the address wasn't listed. If a woman was involved, she could have lured Calleigh. The minute they got the address, Horatio wanted to search that house. He was as taut as a bird dog on point, seeing the end of the chase. Sanders, next to him, watched him unobtrusively and almost pitied the criminals of Miami. The elevator down the hall opened, and there he was, escorted by two guards. They vanished into the hotel manager's office, and Sanders and Horatio both started down the hall, but Horatio stopped so quickly that Sanders actually ran into him. "What is it?" the detective asked, backpedaling. Horatio had turned, looking out across the lobby. People milling around, checking in, checking out, normal morning hotel traffic. No one was paying attention to them. But for a moment, he had felt a sharp sliver of attention, the sense that he was being watched. There was nothing now, though. He swept the lobby with his eyes a few more times, then shrugged and turned back toward the manager's office. "Nothing," he replied.  
  
***  
  
Urgent feet approached the door, and the locks were unbolted before Calleigh and Rosalind had even had time to stand. Steve entered with a businesslike pistol in his hand. "Up, both of you. We're moving."  
  
Pete, standing tentatively in the door behind, said, "Susan went out to buy groceries."  
  
"Forget her." Steve stepped back and indicated the door. "Okay, both of you remember, Pete and I are armed. One scream, one gesture, anything to draw attention, and we'll shoot."  
  
"Where we going, Steve?"  
  
"Across the river. You remember that hunting cabin up there? It's isolated, I know where the key is hidden, and it's not connected to us. We'll be safe there."  
  
"That's 10 miles," Pete protested.  
  
"Nice long walk. Let's get started." His eyes ran up and down Calleigh with an assessing look that suddenly alarmed her. "I mean it, gorgeous. Don't try anything. I will shoot you." She believed him. She started off, one hand comfortingly on Rosalind's shoulder, trying to shake off the chill his eyes had given her. Horatio, she thought, I know you're coming, but please hurry.  
  
***  
  
Rosalind stumbled slightly. The pace was fast for 10-year-old legs, and the ground was getting rougher. They had worked their way off the streets and onto the trails network, heading for the Niagara River. There were few people around. It was still morning. In a few hours, the traffic would pick up. Ahead, Calleigh recognized the swaying bridge, the one that had scared Horatio. Just before it, Rosalind tripped again, though, and fell flat. Steve's hand moved threateningly in his pocket.  
  
"Give her a break. Her shoe's untied." Calleigh picked Rosalind up, giving her a comforting squeeze, then knelt in front of her, working on the shoe.  
  
"Steve, I'm gonna take a leak." Pete started off into the brush, and Calleigh for the first time saw Steve's eyes leave her for a second, following his partner with a look of impatience. Too far away to tackle, and she was totally off balance kneeling on the ground, but a flash of inspiration hit her suddenly. In one smooth motion, she reached into Rosalind's pocket, pulled out the Rubic's Cube, and lightly tossed it sideways off the trail. Steve turned back instantly at the motion, but Calleigh was innocently tying the girl's shoes. She glanced sideways unobtrusively. The cube rested about 10 feet off the trail, buried in early autumn leaves. Horatio would spot it in one second flat, but she doubted any casual hiker would. No adult would be looking that far off the trail, and any kids would be fixed on the bridge ahead. She finished tying the shoes and stood up. Rosalind's eyes met hers, and she managed a half smile. The girl started to turn her head, looking at the cube, and Calleigh caught her head, holding it straight. "It's going to be okay, Rosalind," she said, and she kissed her lightly on the forehead. Pete rejoined them, and the trek continued.  
  
They crossed the swaying bridge and started up the trails on the other side, gradually meeting less and less people, the trails getting less and less traveled. Every time they made a turn, Calleigh dragged her right foot slightly along the edge of the dirt path, making it look like plain fatigue. Rosalind really was getting tireder, though, her pace forcing them to slow down. Calleigh could feel Steve's impatience approaching boiling point. It was now past noon.  
  
"Let's stop for a minute," she said, obeying her own suggestion. "Sit down, Rosalind." She indicated a log by the trail, and the girl gratefully collapsed. Steve started to protest, and Calleigh cut him off. "It won't make it easier if she collapses and we have to carry her. 15 minutes' rest will do wonders." He eyed the girl assessingly, then nodded reluctantly. A thinking criminal, even if an amateur. Far more dangerous than ones who did not think. Horatio, she thought, hurry. He was coming. She could feel him. She twisted her ring on her finger, as if touching his soul along their connection.  
  
"Let me see that." Steve had caught the movement, and his eyes mentally weighed the gold and the diamond.  
  
"No." The tone was absolute refusal. His eyes met hers, and that look that had frightened her earlier was back. The male in him rose to a challenge. He undressed her with his eyes, and she shuddered unwillingly.  
  
"You're right. Let's rest a bit," Steve said. "Pete, watch the girl. And keep your gun ready. Not likely to run into other hikers up this far." Pete took his gun out of his pocket and took up position across the trail from Rosalind. Steve pulled out his own gun and stepped back, putting some distance between them. "First, take off that ring."  
  
"No." Her chin was up, her eyes defiant. He raised his gun, pulling back the hammer.  
  
"He's history. You're mine now."  
  
"Not till hell freezes over," she spat at him. "He's more man than you'll ever be." She knew it wasn't wise to provoke him, but he wasn't getting her ring or her, damn it. She saw the determination in his eyes a half second before he fired. 


	4. Honeymoon 4

"Many waters cannot quench love, Neither can the floods drown it."  
  
The Bible, Song of Solomon 8:7  
  
***  
  
Steve's eyes fired a split second before his gun did, and Calleigh, knowing what was coming, hurled herself sideways. There was no chance of tackling him - he was too far away - but maybe she could avoid the shot. Not entirely. As she dodged, she felt a sharp tug on her left sleeve, then a thin, hot ribbon of pain. She rolled as she hit the ground and was almost instantly back on her feet. Rosalind's scream hung in the air and echoed off the trees, and Calleigh turned up the trail toward the girl. She couldn't help it. "Rosalind, I'm okay. It's okay." The girl's mouth snapped shut, but her eyes were still wide open. Pete was staring at Steve, his own gun slack. If Calleigh had been that close to him, she could have taken him in a second, but Rosalind was only 10, and she had already faced more today than any 10-year-old could be expected to.  
  
Steve's eyes switched from Calleigh to Rosalind and back, like the lashing tail of a predatory cat before the fatal pounce. He instantly swung his gun hand around, and it wasn't Calleigh he was aiming for now. Rosalind, still sitting on the log, stared at him speechlessly, then looked back to Calleigh, the eyes pleading. "Take off the ring," Steve repeated. He cocked the pistol. Calleigh considered for half a second, but there were limits to her defiance. The ring could be replaced. The child could not. Reluctantly but quickly, she removed the ring and started toward him. "Freeze." The gun wavered back toward her, but his threat was still directed toward Rosalind. "You'd like to get up close enough to tackle me, wouldn't you? Put it down now, and back off. Walk over to the others." Calleigh knelt and gently, lovingly placed the ring on the ground, then backed away, going quickly to Rosalind, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders. She glanced at her left arm. The bullet had just grazed her high on the arm, leaving a bright red scratch. It was barely bleeding. Not even worth stitches, probably, but the sting of it sharpened her anger that much more. You'll pay for that, she promised silently.  
  
Steve picked up the ring. He caught her eyes, grinned at her, and spit on it. Calleigh held steady, though her soul flinched. You will pay for this, you bastard. Steve grinned more broadly at the hate in her eyes, pocketed the ring, and came up the trail toward them. "When we get up to that cabin, gorgeous, I'm going to have to teach you some manners." His gun never wavered, steady on Rosalind now. He was smart enough to recognize the key to Calleigh's cooperation. "Get up, kid. Move it. Pete, put out that damn cigarette." Pete dropped the cigarette and fumbled to get his gun out of his pocket again. Give me two seconds alone with him, thought Calleigh, and then two seconds with Steve. We'll see who's the better shot. Her feet slowed down the pace as much as they could, trying to make it easier for Rosalind, trying to buy time, but her mind was moving at a flat gallop.  
  
***  
  
Horatio walked out of the empty house. Well, not empty - there were police and the waiter's sister there - but empty of anything that mattered. They had been here, though, and recently. Aside from the evidence in the bedroom, he could feel the glow of her presence fading like the embers in a dying fire, still giving heat. He recalled his feeling that morning, that someone had been watching him in the hotel lobby, had seen the waiter taken into the manager's office. Another of them had been there and had bolted, taking Calleigh and Rosalind with him.  
  
Sanders came alongside him. "I think she's telling the truth," he offered tentatively. The sister had been fairly talkative, furious that her partners had abandoned her, but she claimed to have no idea where they had gone.  
  
"She is," said Horatio. "She's too mad to lie right now. Unfortunately, her telling the truth doesn't help us."  
  
"So what next?" asked Sanders. "What do you do in CSI when you're roadblocked?"  
  
"Look for a detour." Horatio turned back to face Sanders directly, his eyes intense. "There are two possible routes from here, and I want us to split up. Each take one. Whichever is right, we'll get there sooner that way than just picking one and picking wrong."  
  
"What do you want me to do?"  
  
"Get back to the station and call the city. Park on their phone line. Don't let them call you back. We have names now for all four, and Steve, we know, has a record of minor offenses, did some light time. What you need is someone with a central database to run all of these names. Prior addresses, known acquaintances, relatives. Most of all, any contacts Steve had in prison. Cell mates. Anyone who has been paroled recently. Look for any connection at all to any person or address near here, then go search there."  
  
"Right," said Sanders. "What are you going to do?"  
  
"I'm going back to my original idea. I'm going to try to find where Rosalind was taken and see if there's anything else there to help us." It was more than that, but he didn't explain his real reason. Most criminals, when partners started getting caught, when the net started to close, abandoned contacts, instead of involving more. His gut instinct was that Steve would run away from other people, not to them. He itched to get out on those trails, especially the distant ones. That was the direction he would take himself in Steve's shoes. He opened the door of Sanders' car and picked up the package on the front seat, unwrapping the laser binoculars. He hung them around his neck, put on his sunglasses, and headed toward the river at a fast walk. Sanders watched his tall figure until he disappeared around a corner, then shook himself into action and walked around to the driver's side. As he got in, the woman was led from the house in cuffs. She called out to him, "Right, you go catch that bastard. He still owes me my share." Actually, Sanders thought, I think you've gotten more than you bargained for. He put the car into gear and drove off, wondering what Horatio was really up to.  
  
***  
  
Horatio covered the trails quickly, doing the job he had said he would, measuring off distances, but rapidly moving farther and farther from the falls. The way he saw it now, Rosalind had been hiking on the trails herself when she was captured. The kidnappers then taped the ransom message on the spot and split up, one delivering it to the hotel while another took the girl to the house. He measured another distance, carefully jotted it down, and moved along another hundred yards. Suddenly, he realized how close he was to the swaying bridge. In that instant, he decided to make himself cross it, for no reason other than to get victory over something, to try to ease some of his frustration. He knew frustration blocked clear thought. Easy, Horatio, he told himself. Calleigh's probably already rescued them both. You'll probably meet them coming back.  
  
He rounded the last curve, and the bridge was up ahead. No one else was in sight; it was around lunch time. In an hour or two, more hikers would be here, but now, he had it to himself. And that was how he wanted it. He started forward, forcing himself to see the bridge, to see that it wasn't that other one. Then, almost onto it, he stopped dead. Something out of place, something wrong. He instantly widened focus and turned a slow circle, letting himself absorb his surroundings. He spotted the Rubic's Cube immediately, and his heart leaped straight through the top of his head. She had been here. He was on the right trail. And they couldn't be that far ahead of him. He picked up the cube and pocketed it, smiling slightly at the picture of Calleigh dropping it for him. He was touching what she had touched shortly before. Then he turned toward the bridge.  
  
The minute he felt the swaying motion under his feet, it all came back. This time, though, he refused to let himself stop. His hands gripped the rope rail so tightly that it hurt. One step at a time, he told himself. One step at a time. Straight to Calleigh. Her voice in the moonlight, calling him back, warred with the memory of the collapse. He was sweating, and his heart threatened to pound straight through his chest, but he kept going. Halfway now. He pictured Calleigh at the end of the bridge, waiting for him. Three-quarters. Keep going. Almost there. He stepped off the bridge onto firm ground again and stopped for a moment, letting his pulse slow down a bit. Victory sang through his veins along with it, though. He had managed it. The fear was still there, but when he needed to, when he had to, he had worked past it. He was still in control. He could live with being afraid, as long as he knew he was stronger than it was. It would not conquer him. It was just fear. And simple fear really did not matter, like Calleigh had said. "You're right, Cal," he said aloud. "Here I come." He started off at a smooth run, eyes scanning all sides of the trail. She would leave other clues for him, like she had left the cube. And now he was not only following their trail but moving faster than they were. He held himself back from full speed, not burning himself out but settling to the task like a distance runner to the race. Waiting at the finish line was Calleigh.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh kept trying to slow the pace down more, seriously worried now that Rosalind was near exhaustion. The brief rest period earlier had hardly been restful. The girl's feet dragged in the dirt, and she stumbled over and over. Calleigh had taken her arm, trying to help, but the trail got harder and steeper as they went. Finally, Rosalind had had enough. She hit a dead halt in the middle of the trail, and not even Steve's gun could move her. "I can't," she said. The flat, expressionless tone convinced Steve when further words would not. "You." He waved the gun at Calleigh. "Pick her up."  
  
"Me? You're kidding. I'm not that much bigger than she is. And in case you forgot, I've got a hurt arm." Calleigh probably could have carried Rosalind for a while, but her mind was working like lightning, sorting out the possibilities here. If she couldn't, and Steve certainly wouldn't, then that left . . .  
  
"Pete." Pete, seizing the opportunity to light a quick cigarette, jumped guiltily to attention. "Pick her up, Pete. No, wait." He had seen the flash in Calleigh's eyes. "Give me your gun. I want both of them." So much for the chance of getting hold of it somehow.  
  
Pete passed his gun to Steve, who tucked it into his pocket. He then turned to Rosalind and picked her up, staggering slightly. On they went, first Pete with Rosalind, then Calleigh, then Steve a safe distance behind her, one gun aimed, one in his pocket. Pete had already been wheezing when he picked the girl up, though, and his own pace soon dropped to a crawl. He stopped himself finally, sitting down on a rock, still holding Rosalind. "Sorry, Steve," he panted. "Just give me a minute."  
  
"Damn cigarettes," Steve said. His gun swung back toward Calleigh. "Now, gorgeous, drop the front. You carry her." Calleigh forced herself not to react. 100 yards behind Steve, swift and silent as a panther, Horatio glided around a corner. He stopped instantly, sizing up the situation. Pete, focused on the ground, did not see him. Steve had his back to him, but although he wasn't aware of Horatio, he was aware of Calleigh's sudden confidence as all fear vanished. The insult was more than he could bear. "Pick her up, damn you!" He saw the refusal in her eyes and cocked the pistol again. This time, Calleigh knew, he meant to kill her. His manhood had taken all it could from this slight woman who refused to be afraid of him. It was the only way he could think of to even the score.  
  
Horatio had been walking toward them silently, but he was still 50 feet away. He saw Steve's shoulders tense, and he knew that time had run out. He was too far away to tackle him, he had no gun, and if he called out, distracted Steve, he might still shoot Calleigh reflexively as he turned. In desperation, Horatio used the only weapon he had. He threw the laser binoculars.  
  
The heavy plastic and glass object hit Steve sharply across the back of the head and literally knocked him to the ground. Calleigh leaped instantly, grabbing the gun, and Horatio was there almost as quickly, pinning him down. Their eyes met briefly over the downed criminal, savoring victory, savoring each other. Then, as Calleigh pulled the second gun out of Steve's pocket, Horatio took the first one and stood, instantly aiming at Pete, who sat on his rock with his mouth literally hanging open. "You want to try anything?" Pete eyed Horatio up and down and shook his head wordlessly. "Good decision. Let the girl go." Rosalind slipped from his arms and rushed to Horatio, attaching herself fiercely to him. He hugged her back, carefully keeping his gun hand free, and turned back to check on Calleigh and Steve.  
  
Calleigh had the gun still ready, but one hand was covered with blood. Steve's blood. "You really walloped him, Horatio. He's got a gash three inches long on the back of his head." She stood and rolled him over with her foot. The eyes were dazed but conscious. Calleigh stood over him, one foot on his chest. Remembering, she bent carefully, keeping an eye on him, and pulled her ring out of his pocket. Finally, she spit in his face. Horatio came up alongside her. "Allow me," he said. He disentangled his free hand from Rosalind, took the ring, and slipped it back onto her finger. Their eyes met for a long, satisfying moment.  
  
"Now," said Calleigh, "what do we do? I don't think this jerk can walk back down, and I know Rosalind can't. I'm pooped, too." She didn't say it, but she realized now that Horatio's shirt was soaked with sweat and his breathing not quite steady. She remembered that he had been running when he first rounded the corner. He ran all the way up that trail, she thought. Almost 10 miles. And he was only three months out from his accident, had only started working out again a month before.  
  
"Calleigh, I have a confession to make."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
Horatio pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. "I cheated. Last night, after you were kidnapped, I asked Sanders to loan me a phone."  
  
Her eyes rested on it appreciatively. "I forgive you. I must admit, I'm glad to see one."  
  
"They do have their uses. At times."  
  
"At times," she agreed, as he started dialing. Steve's bewildered eyes tracked from the woman standing over him to the man with the phone, and his foggy mind still tried to work out what the hell had happened.  
  
**  
  
Later that evening, Horatio and Calleigh re-entered the honeymoon suite. She carefully bolted the door behind them, fastening the chain, as Horatio crossed to the couch and dropped into it. "Do you think there's any hope for him?" she asked. They had just reluctantly shared a celebratory dinner with Stevens and Rosalind. The man was so effusive in his thanks that it was pathetic.  
  
"People do change," said Horatio.  
  
"Sometimes. You think he will, though?" She came up behind the couch where he was sitting and started working her hands along his shoulders, untying the knots.  
  
He sighed. "Not really. He's always been wrapped up in business first. Rosalind says that's what broke up the marriage. Once the shock wears off, he'll probably revert to form."  
  
"At least her mother is caring."  
  
"Yes." He turned his head slightly, looking back at her. "Do you mind if we keep in touch with her, have her over now and then?"  
  
"Of course not. Be a shame not to, with her right in Miami." She continued working on his shoulders, feeling the tension draining away. She had no doubt that the last 24 hours had been harder on him than on her.  
  
"Are you sure you're all right, Cal?"  
  
"I'm absolutely fine, Horatio. It's only a scratch. Once the hotel doctor put some stuff on it, it even stopped hurting. And chloroform doesn't hurt you in small doses. I even got a very sound night's sleep last night, although the hard way." She eyed the taut angles of his face. "What about you? Did you get any sleep at all?" He nodded. "How much?" she insisted.  
  
"About 30 minutes," he admitted.  
  
She bent over and kissed the top of his head. "Well, tonight, you're going to get some real sleep. And no dreams allowed, you hear?"  
  
He reached one hand up and lightly stroked the side of her face. "I already have one. Will you let me keep it?"  
  
Utterly charmed, she walked around the couch and climbed into his lap, snuggling against him. "Just that one, then. But no others. I mean it."  
  
He pulled her against him. "One's enough," he said, bending to kiss her. She answered his kisses with her own, feeling the heat rising between them. After a minute, though, he broke away. "You're sure that arm is okay?"  
  
She smiled at him. "Horatio, it doesn't bother me in the slightest."  
  
His smile answered hers, his incredible eyes, amused and playful now, drinking in the sight of her face in the moonlight once again. The reality, not just the memory. "Prove it to me," he said, his voice a low rumble.  
  
Later, he had to admit he was thoroughly convinced.  
  
***  
  
Eric and Speed were waiting as Horatio and Calleigh entered CSI. "Look who decided to come back," said Speed. "We were taking bets whether you'd just decide to stay in Niagara Falls."  
  
"There's a thought," said Horatio. "What about it, Cal? Year round."  
  
She smiled at him. "I'd hate to see the hotel bills, though."  
  
"I bet a week is bad enough," muttered Speed. Eric kicked him lightly on the shin.  
  
"We are glad to have you back," said Eric. "Been too quiet around here."  
  
"We'll do our best to liven things up a bit," said Horatio. "By the way, Eric, thank you again for your help with that package."  
  
"No problem, H." Eric still wondered about that package.  
  
"What package?" asked Calleigh.  
  
"Eric is the one who shipped me the laser binoculars."  
  
To Eric's amazement, Calleigh instantly walked over to him, hugged him fiercely, then kissed him. "Thank you, Eric. They were a lifesaver. We never would have made it without them."  
  
"Which reminds me," said Horatio, "one thing I've got to do today is order another set. Between the broken lenses and the dented casing, I don't think that pair will be much use to us anymore."  
  
"You ought to bill them to Niagara Falls," said Calleigh.  
  
"No, fair's fair. I'm the one who threw them. I'll pay to replace them." He smiled at Calleigh. "Besides, it was cheap at the price."  
  
"That it was," she said, answering his smile with one of her own.  
  
"Well, I'd better see what paperwork has sprouted on my desk while I was gone. See you at lunch, Calleigh." He turned for his office.  
  
"See you then, Horatio." She headed for Ballistics. Eric and Speed were left staring at each other. It was a good minute before Eric broke the silence.  
  
"You've got company, man. I'll never understand either one of them."  
  
Speed shook his head. "I'm gonna go work on something simple, like trace evidence."  
  
Speed left, and Eric stood there for another minute, then wandered down the hall into the main lab, looking up toward Horatio's office. He could see him up there at his desk, phone to his ear. Probably ordering laser binoculars. To replace the ones he had thrown and broken. On his honeymoon. With a shrug, Eric gave up on it. "Welcome back, H." 


End file.
